Open a little window on one woman's adventures with multiple sclerosis

Category Archives: identity

I recently complained, “my bedroom has more equipment than personality…”

Take a look for yourself…

What a lot of clutter! I would like to point out the Dreamcatcher and the framed photograph of trees on the shores of a lake. The portrait above of the woman sitting in an armchair also hangs on my wall. It is a portrait of my great-grandmother. My grandmother painted this portrait of her mother-in-law; I’m sure that’s a story in and of itself. The painting takes me back to another time and place that I can only imagine…

I like to remember the days when the pictures and posters on my bedroom walls were important. They identified my interests and my preferences in music. I pasted on my walls artists I admired, as well as musicians I adored. On my walls, I taped postcards of places I wanted to visit. My walls expressed my aspirations…

It just struck me, my bed is facing my window. I’m still looking out. I don’t go very far, but my imagination does…

painting by S. Conti Niccolai

Share this:

“Well, you have five minutes to change your mind again,” she said with a grin. It was the night of the annual lecture that I help organize in honour of my late husband. As a family, we were preparing to go. It was very exciting; one of my stepdaughters was in town for the event. “Shall I go by Power Chair or drive in and take my walker?” There are pluses and minuses to either one and for the past hour I had been changing my mind at regular intervals. The pendulum swung once and I’d say, “I don’t like watching people react to the wheelchair.” When the pendulum swung low, I couldn’t decide. As it moved to the far side, I’d state, “I like using my legs.” We drove there. The walker was pulled from the van, I leaned on it and I pushed it past my son, who was holding open the door to the building. Once inside, I got tired of walking down the hall, turning to my daughter I asked her to pull me. I turned around, sat on the walker and she pulled me the rest of the way to the auditorium. I live with patient people.

That was a year ago. I have since decided that walking is very pedestrian……

This year I was talking to my stepdaughter before the event and told her “I’m taking the Power Chair, because I want to be free.” I smiled broadly, remembering how she had teased me last year for changing my mind so often. Freedom is relative. I meant I was free to move without making a huge physical effort. I was free! I chose to ignore other’s reaction to my wheelchair. I was also free to move myself around without having to ask others for too much help. Perhaps, I was freeing others from the stress of looking after me.